


The Knitted Monstrosity Conspiracy

by Meilan_Firaga



Series: 25 Days of Christmas Fics - 2017 [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Holiday Sweaters, Holidays, Humor, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: When sweaters begin to appear across the Avengers facility, everyone starts to get a little nervous.25 Days of Christmas Fics 2017 - Prompt 3 - Ugly Sweaters





	The Knitted Monstrosity Conspiracy

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of my 2017 attempt (maybe this year will succeed!) at 25 Days of Christmas Fics.
> 
> Prompt 3: Ugly Sweaters

It started innocently enough. Darcy always had something going in her hands, whether it was a fidget spinner while she talked a scientist into eating the sandwich she’d put on their desk, a tablet while she helped correlate data, or a spoon and mixing bowl while she lectured someone or other for not eating a proper meal once a day. She had a habit of keeping her fingers moving, and if they were focused on something inane or productive it meant that weren’t focused on mischief, like tossing shoes into extra dimensional portals to see if they’d come back. The appearance of yarn and knitting needles during movie nights wasn’t any big deal.

Only, after the knitting needles appeared so did the sweaters.

_Quickly._

Like, one every two days kind of quickly.

The first blocking frame took over one of the sideboard tables in the hall, and the sweater it held struck a note of fear into the heart of everyone in residence at the Avengers facility. Most of its body was a strange, iridescent blue, but that could have been shrugged off. The malformed snowflakes in sparkling white with a series of superhero masks at their center could not. The snowflakes were goofy, extreme, and exactly the type of thing a well-meaning grandma would have chosen to knit. Sometime in the night after the sweater appeared someone added a series of gold spangles that could have been ripped directly from a 1980s sweatshirt to the arms of each snowflake.

The second frame held a disturbing mass of baby poop green yarn with a series of ugly dancing gingerbread men. Every cookie on the sweater was a candy coated version of an Avenger. They all had plastic wiggly eyes. The third frame carried a frighteningly gaudy creation in metallic gold with a huge portrait of the Hulk wearing an elf hat in elaborate bobbles across the chest. The fourth featured Iron Man and Captain America kissing under the mistletoe on a field of black, and it only got worse from there. Before long, frames could be found clustered all over the communal living quarters.

They didn’t have owners. Giving them owners ahead of time might have decreased the amount of dread their appearance caused. The sweaters didn’t stop appearing even when there were enough for every Avenger and Avenger-adjacent hero to have one, plus extras for scientists, significant others, and every might-as-well-be-family member of the personnel. The personnel, for the most part, thought they were hilarious. In fact, someone--most rumors agreed that it was Happy--had erected a white board and opened a betting pool as to which sweater would belong to which person. There was an almost unanimous agreement that the “Most Glorious Sweater Outing the Love of Tony Stank for Captain American Dreamboat” was absolutely meant for Tony. The only dissenter was, of course, Tony who laid a solid five thousand dollars against out of what he called faith in his ‘favorite overpaid intern.’

No matter how much anyone begged, Darcy would not admit to anything. Even when she sat cross-legged on the ottoman during movie night, her next hideous creation obviously forming in her lap, she would smile in puzzlement and insist that she had no idea what anyone meant when asked about the sweaters. She simply continued to knit, bedazzle, and fabric paint her way to a veritable holiday store’s worth of the ugliest Christmas sweaters that anyone had ever seen.

Then, one day, all of the sweaters disappeared. A memo went out to every person with access to the Avengers facility, whether they worked in the facility itself or communicated with the Avengers on behalf of one government or another.

 

 

> _To whom it may concern:_
> 
>  
> 
> _The facility will be closed from December 20th to January 3rd for the holidays. Access will be granted to residents and their friends and family on a case by case basis only. Should a world crisis emerge the usual means of communication will remain open. We thank you for your cooperation in these matters so that Earth’s Mightiest Heroes can appropriately enjoy the upcoming holiday season._
> 
>  
> 
> _Happy Holidays!_
> 
> _The Avengers_

 

That day, the call center nearly quit en masse from handling the influx of questions. It was only the timely arrival of a phone call flow chart that would lead callers in an endless circle of “Have you saved the world this year?”, “Do you get time off at the holiday?”, and “Get over it.” until they would get frustrated enough to hang up that turned the tables. The breakroom served piping hot New York pizza to every phone operator that day, and a hefty cash bonus envelope appeared on every desk. The phrase “paid holiday time” circulated through the e-mail servers and all was forgiven.

The pinnacle of the issue, though, came two days after the memo went out. Things had just finished settling into the realm of acceptance regarding the facility’s closure when the boxes were delivered. On the outside they were plain: large, square boxes wrapped in brown shipping paper and tied with red and white striped twine. They were a picturesque reminder of days gone by. They were also delivered to a series of individuals all over the world. Simultaneously. By spinning orange portal.

In his private lab on one of the lower levels, Tony Stark set his torque wrench aside as he watched the box fall from the air to land perfectly in the center of his cleanest worktable. With a final shower of sparks the spinning portal vanished, and he reached to pull the box toward him. In Darcy’s neat black script a note was pinned to the box’s brown wrapping.

 

 

> _Boss-man,_
> 
>  
> 
> _Thought you might like the same kind of invitation all your guests are getting. Remember: you asked for this._
> 
>  
> 
> XOXO,
> 
> _Earth’s Mightiest_ **_JUSTIFIABLY PAID_ ** _Intern_
> 
>  
> 
> _P.S. You owe me a new iPod and you owe Stephen something expensive for all the work he’s done to give me a hand._

 

Rolling his eyes, Tony pulled the tie on the twine and carefully unwrapped the paper. The box beneath was made of sturdy white board and embossed with gold snowflakes. He lifted the lid to find a heavy parchment envelope sitting atop neat gold tissue paper. “Iron Man” was printed on the envelope in gold ink. Irritated at having to open so many things but thoroughly impressed that she’d done such a professional job, he tore through the top of the envelope and pulled out the invitation he knew would be inside.

 

 

> _You are cordially invited to a Heroic Holiday Celebration._
> 
>  
> 
> _For this holiday season, any and all political ties, previous squabbles, questions of morality, and fugitive status (justified or otherwise) will be studiously ignored. Any observing government satellites will be down for “routine maintenance and upgrades” courtesy of Stark Industries. We have all had the privilege to save lives. We should all have the privilege of celebrating a holiday amongst those who understand our varied and yet strangely similar situations._
> 
>  
> 
> _Friends and family will be considered for invitations upon request. We want everyone to be able to be with their loved ones this season. Please follow the contact guidelines below if you require such consideration._
> 
>  
> 
> _The festivities will begin on December 21st with our Ugly Christmas Sweater Solstice Mixer. Your sweater has been provided in this box. Sweaters are non-optional._
> 
>  
> 
> _Please RSVP using the included card. Simply check the box befitting your response and drop the card into open flame. Yes, we’re serious. With all the things we’ve seen a little magic shouldn’t be so much of a surprise._
> 
>  
> 
> _You will be contacted by Miss Darcy K. Lewis to coordinate transportation and arrival times. Any questions should be directed to her via secure phone line. A second card has been included with instructions for such contact._
> 
>  
> 
> _We hope to see you at the Mixer! Holidays, ho!_
> 
> _Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Darcy K. Lewis_

 

Laughing, Tony shook his head and set the invitation aside. While he didn’t have a contact card in his envelope (why would he need one given that he’d set up Darcy’s secure line, after all?), he did have the RSVP card she’d mentioned. Curious, he checked the box for attending, scribbled a line about Pepper as his date, and lit the flame on a propane torch he had handy. He’d barely dropped the card when it hit the flame and vanished in a puff of sparkling green snowflakes that disappeared before they hit the ground. He decided then and there that he needed to take Lewis out for drinks if only to ask how she’d managed to wrangle Strange into party planning with her.  Amused and intrigued, he turned to the box and rifled through gold tissue to see what sweater he’d been given.

“GODDAMMIT, LEWIS!” he howled.

In the box, of course, was the black sweater with Iron Man kissing Captain America. She was actually going to make him wear it in front of Steve fucking Rogers. The things he was going to do in the spirit of Christmas…

 

Late that night in Greenwich Village, a sleep rumpled Darcy opened the door of 177A Bleecker Street to find Happy Hogan standing on the doorstep. Happy raised one hand, the barest hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. With a smirk of her own, Darcy smacked his palm in a high five. They exchanged no words as Happy passed over a plain white envelope and turned back to his car. Darcy turned back inside, closed the door, and shuffled back up the stairs to Stephen’s room, happily counting her twenty percent from everyone who’d put money on Tony having that particular sweater.


End file.
